


Working Through the Pain

by Antarctic_Echoes



Series: Luciferian Fics (One shots) [30]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pain, Post S2x15, Sad Devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10867884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarctic_Echoes/pseuds/Antarctic_Echoes
Summary: Lucifer Morningstar struggles with his emotional pain.  Takes place during S2x15 and afterward.(It's another sad, angsty thing.)Short one-shot.





	Working Through the Pain

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my reader, Amelie, who asked me to write about S2x15. Thank you for the request, Amelie! I hope this doesn't disappoint.
> 
> Disclaimer: Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker, Amenadiel and Mum are owned by Vertigo Comics, DC Comics, Neil Gaiman, Mike Carey, and everyone else involved with the Lucifer TV show and comic books. I own nothing and make no money on this. I merely am borrowing the characters for... uh... writing practice.

 

 

How ironic it was that the Devil -- Lord of Hell, punisher of evil souls, inflictor of pain -- hated to experience pain himself.

Oh, not physical pain, to be sure.  Lucifer Morningstar loved a good fight, especially with humans and their silly guns -- well, as long as the detective wasn’t around.  Even the pain of Chloe slapping him in the face so long ago had brought an intense amount of pleasure to his insides.

No, it was emotional pain that he loathed.  It hurt far more deeply, and whereas physical pain eventually went away, emotional pain... didn’t.  It lingered like a cancer, growing inside where no one could see, multiplying and killing every joy he had, until he felt like death.

Working with the detective while pretending that everything was normal had been hard.  He tried to convince himself that nothing had changed.  That he felt... nothing.

Fetching her coffee just the way she liked it, initiating banter with her -- he hoped that she would see that everything was back to normal.  It would keep her attention off of just how hard he was trying to keep the mask he wore from slipping -- the one hiding the love he felt for her.  Relief filled him when she didn’t look deep enough into his actions to see what they were costing him.

For there was a cost to everything, wasn’t there?

Fighting desperately to be dead inside was the only way he could function around her.  Just pretend that everything was fine, that all he cared about was the case -- or, in this instance, controlling his bloody emotions so that he could bring the Flaming Sword to life.  Bury everything deep inside and raise the walls around his heart so high that feeling the pain would be impossible.  His heart would be a fortress -- impenetrable.

And for a while, it seemed to work.

He thought he could do it -- concentrate so hard on his own wants and needs that he could ignore the horrible ache he felt every time he looked at Chloe.  He could look at her and not experience the warmth that shot through him at her nearness.  Not feel the regret of things that might have been.  Not have his breath catch at the sight of her.  Yes, he could do this.

And so he went through the motions of living, of working, of trying to find out how to harness his emotions into energy, telling himself that he felt no pain or longing, congratulating himself on a job well done.

But that was the thing about pain.  The harder he worked to bury it, the harder it pushed back, demanding to be acknowledged, and catching him unaware at the worst times.  And at those times, when he felt like his insides would shatter into a million pieces and his emotions were spiralling madly out of control, he smiled bigger, laughed brighter, and hoped no one would see the brittle facade he was erecting -- so brittle that the lightest tap could shatter it.

Which Linda did.

She was excellent at her job, after all.  She saw what he was so desperate to hide: that under all the anger he had toward his mother was the pain of losing Chloe -- his heart, his soul.   The one person who brought him happiness.  The one person who might have actually loved him.  When he lost her, he had lost everything that mattered.

Now the only thing that he had left was anger... and revenge.

Still, Linda tried to help him.  She told him that the only way to get over the pain -- the grief of losing everything dear -- was to go through it.  He didn’t want to, but knew he’d have to, for he had to ignite Azrael’s blade and send his mother back to Heaven.

And so, standing in the penthouse with Amenadiel and Mum around him, he lifted Azrael’s blade and concentrated on it.  Reaching deep inside, he knocked down the walls he had erected, revealing the very essence of his torment, and releasing a flood of memories that hit him like water bursting from a broken dam.

Their first meeting at LUX.

_“Lucifer... Morningstar.  Is that, uh, a stage name or something?”_

Chloe sitting next to him at the piano after he had burned his wings on the beach.

_“Look.  I know how much it sucks being alone.  And I can’t pretend to understand why the wings meant so much to you... but if we’re really friends, it... it should be enough just knowing that they did.”_

After Father Frank died, when she came to the penthouse.

_“I’m not here for a case.  I’m here for you.... Thought you could use a friend.”_

They had played “Heart and Soul” on the piano together, and it had been... oh, so sweet.  Looking back, he could see how wonderful that time had been.  He kicked himself for not grabbing the moment with both hands and cherishing it more.

The overwhelming feelings he had for Chloe when he asked Dad to protect her as he lay dying on the floor of the airport hangar....

Chloe hugging him after they had caught her father’s killer, when he had struggled to put into words what he felt -- that her father would have been proud of her.

His wonderful, big-hearted partner trying to help him save LUX, without wanting anything in return.  Their dance.... Oh, their wonderful dance -- to see her face light up as he swung her around filled him with such warmth!  And then their conversation at the piano, his invitation to take her to dinner.

Her testimony in court, even though she knew that it would cost her the conviction of her father’s killer.

_Lucifer is the... best partner I have ever had.  And I can only hope that he can count on me as much as I count on him.”_

Their dinner after the trial, in the penthouse with the near kiss....

The actual kiss on the beach, after he had been trying to hard to convince her that he wasn't worthy of her.

And then the wondrous kiss outside of the university, when he thought it was real.  He had been so sure it _had_ been real... as real as the absolute joy he had felt inside.

But then it was gone, destroyed in an instant by his mother and father.

The agony he felt was like a deluge, flooding his insides.  He was drowning in a sea of pain, and he had to make it stop -- _make it stop, make it stop makeitstop--_

But he couldn’t.  The memories just kept on coming, overwhelming him, killing him all over again.

Dying for Chloe to get the antidote and save her life, only to have to leave her behind -- hurt her -- knowing that it was the right thing to do, even though it destroyed him to do it.  He had to give her back her choice, and there was just no other way.

Coming back to face her -- that alone had been so hard, and of course, there were _those words._

_“You let me down, Lucifer.  I mean... what good is a partner if I can’t depend on you?  I don’t need you anymore.”_

He was dying.  Dying right there in the penthouse, in Hell all over again, in such intense torment -- so much more than when he had Fallen.  His heart was being torn asunder.  He wanted to fall to his knees and scream in agony, to let the tears stream down his face as he curled up into a little ball.

No, no, no -- he had to make it stop, make it stop, he couldn’t handle any more, he was dying and Mum and Amenadiel were right there watching.  He couldn’t let them see that he was dying, dying, dying --

And then, as if sensing his need for self-preservation, the flame on the blade flickered and died out.

It caught him off-guard, and he stared at it dumbly until his knees buckled and he fell against the piano.  Mum had demanded more, treating him like a machine with the ability to turn his emotions on and off with the flick of a switch, but he just couldn’t give anymore.  He was completely spent.  It had been too much pain, and his heart and mind were at the point of collapsing in on themselves like a dying star.

After they left, Lucifer lurched over to his armchair and fell into it, trying hard to rein in his emotions... but he couldn’t.  His iron-clad control was gone.  The walls he had erected lay in ruins around his heart.  Covering his face with his hands, he wept -- for himself, for Chloe, and for everything that could never be.

 

 


End file.
